


Constant as the Northern Star

by wizened_cynic



Series: Dress Your Family in Kevlar and Armani [3]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:11:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizened_cynic/pseuds/wizened_cynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rossi's life got weird. Also, toddlers are sociopaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constant as the Northern Star

**Author's Note:**

> I had the most rotten week and I'm looking at another rotten week ahead, so I wrote comfort fic for myself. This is nothing but soppy, shameless fluff.

  
The Ambassador never drops by without calling in advance, though Rossi has noticed that since Beezus was born, she's been giving shorter and shorter notice.

At first Emily was anxious to make sure the house was perfect, but when Beezus arrived, "perfect" soon tapered off to "reasonably presentable" and by the time Beezus learned to walk, they both conceded that it was a lost cause.

Presently, Rossi is hoping that his mother-in-law will focus on the fact that there's a kettle on the stove and cookies laid out for a midmorning snack, and maybe she could conveniently ignore the twenty-month-old toddler weeping inconsolably into the dog bed while the displaced dog licks applesauce off her foot.

"Good morning, David," the Ambassador greets as he opens the door.

"Good to see you, Elizabeth," he replies. It's still a little awkward, after all these years, and it still startles him sometimes how _right_ it feels to be Emily's husband and Beatrice's dad. How much sense it all makes, even when Beezus, sensing an audience, raises her howls by an octave despite their previous agreement that they will let Mommy sleep, goddammit.

Sergio, naturally, takes this opportunity to rub himself against the Ambassador's legs, as if to remind her that _he_ is here, _he_ is quiet and toilet-trained and loveable, unlike the tiny, loud, impulse-control-lacking monster in the next room.

The Ambassador smiles momentarily as she reaches down to scritch Sergio behind the ears, then grows concerned as they make their way towards the source of the tortured screaming. "What's wrong?" she asks as she takes sight of Beezus, who has now curled up pitifully in Mudgie's bed while Mudgie stares reproachfully at Dave.

"We introduced her to Nietzsche," Dave says by way of explanation. "'What really raises one's indignation against suffering is not suffering intrinsically, but the senselessness of suffering.' As you can see, Beatrice here has discovered the senselessness of suffering."

"And what would have caused this suffering?" asks the Ambassador, ever the diplomat.

"I wouldn't let her draw on the wall. She spilled applesauce on herself. They stopped making the diapers with Elmo on them so she's stuck with Dora." That last one really pisses her off. "Life's difficult when you're one and a half."

"Well, I can see how that would be upsetting," says the Ambassador. She nods as Dave begins pouring the tea. "And Emily?"

"Got in late last night. I wouldn't expect her to be up for another couple of hours, although if this one keeps it up ---"

Beezus suddenly sits up, having caught sight of the chocolate macaron in Rossi's hand. Her eyes are wide and bright with tears and he can almost hear the wheels turning in her head as she assesses the situation like he would at a crime scene. It's probably wrong that he finds the whole situation so amusing --- it's a crying child, for god's sake, David Rossi, your _own_ crying child --- but don't most people have children for completely selfish reasons anyway? He had Beatrice because he wanted to make Emily happy, which in turn made _him_ happy, and Beezus being a never-ending source of entertainment is just a fringe benefit of it all.

When she isn't driving him completely fucking insane, that is.

"Look who's here!" Rossi says with the enthusiasm that he usually reserves for a bottle of well-brewed malt. "Say hi to your grandma, Beezus."

Beezus picks herself up and toddles towards the Ambassador, pretending to be more fragile than she is because Rossi knows for a fact that the kid can walk, hell the kid can _stride_ , with the confidence of a runway model.

Toddlers are fucking sociopaths.

Beatrice isn't particularly charitable with kisses, but she knows how to play her cards right and offers up a grubby cheek to be kissed by her grandmother. Considering that cheek was, as of ten minutes ago, pressed against Mudgie's bed, Rossi is fairly impressed when the Ambassador gives Beezus a quick peck and brushes the remaining tears from her eyes.

"Bwow my nose," Beezus commands, and at Rossi's look of horror, she adds, "Pwease?"

The Ambassador reaches for the box of kleenex across the table and just as Rossi is wondering why Emily is never around for moments like these, she holds a tissue to Beezus's nose and says, "Blow."

Beezus complies and, god, Emily is going to be so sorry she missed this. The Ambassador met the President for a conference last week and the hand with which she had shaken their nation's leader's, Rossi realizes, is now _wiping his daughter's nose._

The least he can do, he decides, is to throw the used tissue away for her.

"Cookie?" Beezus asks hopefully, directing her question to her grandmother, who has now been given the Beatrice Rossi stamp of approval.

"Just one," the Ambassador says, hoisting the toddler onto her lap and handing her a cookie. Beezus proceeds to shove the entire thing into her mouth, spilling crumbs over herself and her grandmother, which Mudgie happily licks from the floor while Sergio gazes at them all with disdain and Rossi thinks, _Wow, my life got weird._

Then Emily stumbles into the room, still bleary-eyed with sleep. She tastes like morning breath when Rossi kisses her and he's so glad that she's here. "Mother," she says, a little surprised. "You're here. Hey, is that a cookie? I'm starving." She leans down to kiss Beezus's head before popping a macaron into her mouth.

"Just one," Beezus says, holding up one finger.

"Have you been crying?" Emily asks, picking her up. "What happened?"

"I sad, but I happy now," Beezus says, then makes the pull-your-shirt-up gesture which Emily finds so adorable when Beezus does it and not so much when Dave does.

"Nietzsche," he says, getting up to fetch Emily's mug from the kitchen. Nursing makes her thirsty and he's not even sure how they fell into this whole hippy co-sleeping extended-nursing attachment-parenting thing, except it's working and his life is good so he's not going to do anything to mess it up

"That would totally explain it," Emily replies with a yawn, and when she smiles at him above their daughter's tousled head, Rossi thinks the only thing that might be keeping his mind from being blown by the goodness, the _normalcy_ of it all, this life, his life, is that he would totally be the one responsible for cleaning up the floor.

  



End file.
